


watch your step (love is broken)

by TurtleTotem



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Angst, Catra (She-Ra) Needs a Hug, Catra Has Issues (She-Ra), F/F, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Other, Past Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Shapeshifting, season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:27:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26801395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TurtleTotem/pseuds/TurtleTotem
Summary: "You're in heat, kitten." Double Trouble shifted, and it was not their own voice that continued, but Adora's. "I'd be happy to help you with that."
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Catra/Double Trouble (She-Ra)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 143





	watch your step (love is broken)

**Author's Note:**

> _(Title from "The Beauty and the Tragedy" by Trading Yesterday.)_

  
  


Catra was never what anyone would call a beacon of serenity, but today she was snappish enough to make Double Trouble regret giving their report in person.

"You call that enough progress to justify going on _vacation_?" she snarled, pacing the out-of-the-way room they'd ducked into. Her hair was wilder than usual, like she'd been dragging her hands through it, and she hadn't been able to hold still for more than five seconds since Trouble arrived.

"Flutterina's supposed to still have family in Elberon," Double Trouble said calmly, leaning against a nearby pipe. "It would look strange if she never visited them. And even the best actors—which I am, obviously—need a break now and then, kitten."

"Whatever," Catra muttered, still pacing. She was flushed, Trouble realized, her eyes a little dilated. "Whatever. Nothing's going to fall apart without _you_ around for one weekend."

She was scraping her claws absently down one arm, not _quite_ hard enough to break the skin, the gesture an odd intersection of self-soothing and self-harming. It was unsettling. Catra grouchy was par for the course. Catra fragile was not a good omen for Double Trouble's future. And were they imagining things, or…?

Catra's pacing brought her to Trouble's side of the room, and they stepped forward, crowding her against the wall and inhaling deeply through their nose. " _Oh_."

Catra shoved them sharply away. "What in the world are you doing?"

Trouble grinned. "How long has _that_ been going on?"

Catra's flush deepened, her eyes widening. "You don't know what you're talking about. You don't know anything!"

Double Trouble shrugged, giving her and those claws a little space. "I don't know much about cat hybrids, true, since I've never met any but you. But I've known a few canines rather _well_ over the years, and I know exactly what that particular change to your scent means. You're in heat, kitten."

Catra spat and slapped a hand over Trouble's mouth, glancing fearfully toward the door of the room. Still closed, Trouble thought, rolling their eyes.

"If I was, it would have nothing to do with you," Catra hissed, stepping back again—because the proximity was hard for her to handle in her current condition, Trouble rather thought. She was breathing too fast.

"Not quite true, honey. You know I'm in a precarious position with this gig. It's in my best interest that my handler be in her right mind."

Catra was pacing again. And clawing her arm. "It'll be over by the time you go back to Bright Moon, anyway."

"That quickly? I don't think so." Their voice went silky and suggestive. "Unless you have a partner to help you out."

Catra's head whipped around. For a long moment she glared at Trouble, while they just smiled, opening their arms in a subtle showcasing motion. "What are you saying?" she demanded at last.

"I'm _saying_ that, for a little compensation—I'm giving up my weekend off, after all—" Between one word and the next, they shifted, and it was not their own voice that continued, but Adora's. "I'd be happy to take care of you, Catra."

Catra jumped back, blood draining from her face, and it was all Trouble could do not to laugh. The poor thing imagined herself to be so cagey, when her heart was usually squarely on her sleeve. "How could—How did you—"

"Oh, Catra," they said, stepping forward to pick up Catra's hand and cradle it against their cheek—Adora's cheek. "You pay me to know things like this. Don't worry, you of all people know I am the soul of discretion." _For as long as it suits me, anyway_.

Catra gulped. The hand against Double Trouble's cheek was trembling. They turned their head just enough to nuzzle her palm.

She made a choked noise and snatched her hand back. It took her a couple of breaths to open her eyes, much less speak.

"Why do you care?" she said, voice hardly above a growl. "Why would you even want to do this?"

Double Trouble shrugged. "Like I said, I need you to have your head on straight. It also promises to be _highly_ entertaining."

Catra turned away and stalked toward the door. For a second Trouble thought they'd miscalculated, until she snapped over her shoulder, "You'd better look like something else while you're in the corridors. And hurry up."

***

"Lock that," Catra said, not looking back at Double Trouble as they followed her through the door.

If Catra was like most Horde soldiers, she wouldn't have had her own quarters until she made Force Captain. _By which time she clearly didn't know what to do with them_ , Trouble thought with a sigh, looking around the ugly, utilitarian room. No décor to speak of, and the bed was going to be a tight fit. All the place had going for it was a window with as good a view as the Fright Zone ever offered—and which Catra was shuttering even as Trouble locked the door behind them.

Catra turned around, shifted awkwardly, looked up and down at Trouble's current form—standard Horde armor with the visor down. "Well?"

"Compensation, honey," Trouble prompted.

Catra rolled her eyes and grumbled, but crossed the room to dig through a drawer. Her tail switched as she did, and Trouble couldn't suppress a smile. They weren't really in this for physical gratification, but they also wouldn't have volunteered if they found Catra repulsive. Depending on the moment, she was anywhere between gorgeous and—like now—ridiculously adorable. Trouble wasn't fool enough to tell her that, though.

"There," Catra said, tossing a purse at them.

Trouble caught it, weighed it, opened it to see the contents. "That'll do nicely," they said, and tucked it away.

"Where do your clothes go when you shift?" Catra said, cocking her head. "And the new ones come from? And the stuff in your pockets…"

"Is not what you actually care about right now," Trouble said, shifting to Adora. "Is it, Catra?"

The effect on Catra was immediate. Her irritation and restlessness melted into something haunted and desperate, staring at Trouble—at Adora—like distant water in the desert. She didn't approach; too uncertain, too mortified. Trouble made the first move instead, crossing the room and wrapping their arms around her.

"Oh, Catra," they said, all concern and longing, "I've missed you so much."

Catra gasped, more like someone taking a wound than accepting an embrace, and twined her arms around Trouble's torso. She was fever-hot and shaking, and Double Trouble felt a pulse of real sympathy for her; heat had to have been going on for days, with no relief, and it had to be _miserable_.

"I can't stay," Trouble-as-Adora murmured into Catra's hair, the edge of her headpiece digging into their jaw, "but I had to come help you through this. Like I used to. Right?"

A shot in the dark, that one, but it hit dead-center. Catra started and glanced up at them. "Yes," she whispered. "The first one. She—you were here for the first one."

"And now I'm here for this one." Probably her third, considering how long Adora had been gone. Trouble began stroking Catra's hair, her back—

Catra tipped back into the touch with a breathless noise, clutching at "Adora's" red jacket as if it were the only thing keeping her upright. Trouble leaned in to kiss her, and nearly got a bashed nose as she yanked them in by the jacket, half a step ahead.

It was a rough kiss, as Trouble had figured it would be, the first frenzied outlet of days of pent-up desperation. They'd expected teeth and strangle-tight arms around their neck and being shoved against the wall, and they got them. They didn't expect how quickly that first wave of fury would melt into something deeper, no less desperate but slower, hungrier, Catra tangling her hands in Adora's hair and curling her tail around her leg.

"I've missed this," Trouble-as-Adora murmured, once they could get any air.

Catra froze. "No," she said, drawing back. "She wouldn't say that. We—we've never kissed."

Skies above, just how much of a tragedy _were_ these two? Double Trouble repressed a sigh in favor of nudging their nose tenderly against Catra's. "But I helped you before…? Show me what we did before."

Catra took a shaky breath and lead them by the hand to the bed. "Right there. No, sitting up against the wall."

Double Trouble arranged themselves as directed, and helped Catra climb into their lap, her back to their chest.

"This feels nice," Trouble-as-Adora said, wrapping her arms around Catra and nuzzling under her ear. It _did_ feel surprisingly nice; Catra seemed to fit there perfectly, cradled between Adora's thighs.

Catra's only answer was to press one of Trouble's hands between her legs, moaning at the relief even that bit of touch provided.

_Ah_ , Trouble thought, and got to work.

This would have happened the first time in a bunkroom, they thought as Catra thrashed and panted in their arms. Stolen moments of privacy, awkward and uncertain. Adora would have been the only person Catra could possibly go to, for something so intimate and vulnerable. Impossible to imagine her asking someone like Lonnie or _Kyle_ for this. And even now, when Trouble thought that Scorpia or even Entrapta (in the name of scientific exploration) would have helped, Catra would rather have no one. It could only ever be Adora.

Yes, this was proving very educational.

Catra didn't seem to know what to do with her hands, at first; finally settled on guiding Trouble's efforts with one, and pressing the other against Trouble's neck, pulling it harder against her face. Double Trouble couldn't imitate scent perfectly, but apparently they were close enough for the moment, close enough that Catra was drinking it down in gulps.

"Please," Catra gasped, when Trouble thought she had to be moments from coming, "kiss me, Adora, please—"

Trouble was happy to comply, tilting her face up tenderly with the hand not occupied elsewhere, and apparently that was all she needed to go over the edge. Trouble held her, stroking her hair, while her breathing slowed and her shivering died down.

This wouldn't be the end of it, of course, at least not if Catra's heat was anything like Trouble's canid friends'. But it would give her a little time before things grew urgent again.

Catra protested half-coherently when Trouble moved her over and got up.

"Shhh." They eased her down into the bed, pulled up the blanket. "I'm going to get some food and water."

"I'm not hungry."

"Well, I'm starving, kitten. And you're dehydrated."

"I'm fine," Catra growled, which was as bald an untruth as Double Trouble had ever heard, but it didn't matter; she was asleep by the time they shifted to Horde-soldier and slipped out the door.

***

Double Trouble managed to at least get some water into Catra before the tide, as it were, came back in, and had Catra climbing into their lap, pulling "Adora's" red jacket off their shoulders and nipping under the edge of their jaw.

"Give me a second!" they said in exasperation, juggling the tray of food off to the side before it spilled—then remembered to get into character, kissing Catra with her face cradled in their hands. "I'll do anything you want, Catra," they whispered. "Just tell me what you want."

They hadn't known Catra could purr until that moment.

"Let's get undressed," Trouble said, and started putting Adora's clothes neatly aside. Catra helped by taking down Adora's ponytail, brushing her hair with her fingers until it lay in golden waves across bare shoulders.

"Your turn," Trouble said, and started by taking off Catra's headpiece or mask or whatever that thing was. They'd never seen her without it before, and it was startling how much she suddenly looked like a person instead of a Force Captain. The way Catra scrubbed at the place it had been left Trouble unsure if she was relieved or uneasy to have it gone.

The rest of Catra's form-fitting clothes proved more difficult. Trouble managed to restrain themselves from laughing until Catra did it first, letting out a snort as she struggled to get her arm out of a tight sleeve. _So cute_ , Trouble thought, and giggled with her as, working together, they finally got all her limbs, including her tail, out through the correct holes.

"This isn't quite right," Catra said, smile fading as she looked over "Adora's" naked body.

"What am I missing?" Trouble looked down at their work, willing to accept correction; they'd never actually seen Adora naked. Catra, apparently, had. _Bunkrooms_ , Trouble reminded themselves, but also—she'd paid enough attention to remember details.

"A little more muscular, in general," Catra said, brushing fingertips down Trouble's shoulder and biceps. "She has a scar from blackpox, here—the whole team had it that winter—and this weird lump on her hip, where she fell off a roof and it didn't heal right. And here…" Her voice trailed off as her claws skittered, oh so lightly, down "Adora's" back. "No, don't—don't worry about that part."

Double Trouble could guess well enough what had happened to Adora's back. But Catra didn't want to look at what she'd done, and Trouble wasn't here to make her. They shifted again, taking the corrections into account.

"Yes, that's right." Catra's voice had gone raspy. She walked a circled around the finished product, pulse jumping in her throat. "That's perfect." She trailed claws lightly over "Adora's" skin as she made another circle, leaving goosebumps. Trouble raised an eyebrow, but said nothing, willing to tolerate the claws as long as they didn't break skin.

"You're so beautiful," Catra whispered, stopping to press her forehead between Trouble's shoulder blades, where there were no clawmark scars. "I've never understood why you get to be so effortlessly beautiful and I get to be… this."

Trouble frowned and turned around, gathering Catra into their arms. "Catra, you're _gorgeous_. Don't you know that?"

"Well, feel free to keep saying it," Catra said, voice strained as she leaned into the hand caressing her face.

"You're gorgeous," Trouble repeated, and leaned in to kiss her.

Catra immediately tackled them into the bed, where, unfortunately, Trouble's toleration of the claws didn't last long. Within a few minutes, Catra had dug into their back so painfully Trouble dropped into their own voice to say, "Don't you scratch me up, kitten, or you'll get to live through 'Adora walks out, the sequel.'" Catra startled so badly Trouble wondered if she'd forgotten they weren't the real Adora—but she laid off the claws.

The bed, the floor, against the wall, back to the bed. Double Trouble kept "Adora" painstakingly solicitous and, well, adoring, completely focused on Catra's comfort and pleasure, coaxing her to eat and drink during what little recovery period the heat allowed her. The purring, Trouble discovered, never actually happened during sex, only during build-up or let-down—usually when Catra was being cuddled and petted. She arched into every touch like she was starving for it. Which, of course, she was, but it was still fascinating to see.

Gradually the sunlight outside the shutters faded into night, the room dropping to a temperature that would have been uncomfortable if not for their rate of activity. Only at that point did Catra gain the presence of mind to offer to return the favors she'd received.

"You haven't had a turn at all," she murmured, pressing kisses to Trouble's throat and chest. She sounded almost drunk, which perhaps wasn't surprising, considering how overwhelmed her system was right now. "Of course you haven't asked. Always the hero." She nipped the side of Trouble's throat sharply. "My sweet martyr. Don't you want something for yourself?"

Double Trouble's first instinct was to deflect the offer; they didn't feel any particular need for that, and it would only complicate the situation. But then again… it would be terribly interesting to see what Catra did with the opportunity.

"Please," they said instead, in Adora's neediest moan, and Catra began kissing her way downward.

They hadn't expected _this_ from Catra—it was more than they'd done for her, so far—and definitely, considering the simmering resentment in her last few sentences, did not expect her to do it like she enjoyed it, like she wanted nothing more in the world but to sweetly, tenderly drive Adora out of her mind. Trouble nearly lost control of their shape altogether, and that hadn't happened in _years_.

"Wow," they managed eventually, when they were pretty certain they weren't going to actually die, and then got the giggles, which seemed in-character at least. Catra cleaned off her mouth and just lay watching Trouble-as-Adora laugh, expression somewhere between wistful and ecstatic, brushing reverent fingertips over their lips. Trouble caught the fingertips and kissed them, one by one, once they could stop laughing long enough. Catra seemed taken by that idea, kissing each of Trouble's in return.

"Tell me you're going to stay," she said, folding Trouble's hand against her heart. "That you're not ever going to leave me. I know," she covered Trouble's mouth before they could protest, though they weren't going to anyway, "I know. Just say it."

Trouble took the space of a breath to pull themselves together, determined to play this exactly right. They cradled a palm against Catra's face—she liked that—and touched their foreheads together. "I'll never leave you, Catra, I promise," they whispered in Adora's softest, most earnest voice. "Never. I'm staying with you, no matter what."

Catra didn't say anything, just buried her head in Trouble's chest and cried. Trouble held her and stroked her back, and knew better than to acknowledge the tears in any way at all.

***

They only managed a scant few hours of sleep before Catra woke Double Trouble up at dawn for more. Despite the urgent way she kissed and moved against them, though, Trouble could tell Catra was past the worst of it now. Her skin was cooler, her pulse steadier, her eyes clearer. By nightfall at the latest, her heat would be over.

The first change to her behavior, as the morning progressed, was that she stopped responding well to praise. Up to that point, she'd been pitifully vulnerable to it, and Trouble-as-Adora had heaped it on her at every opportunity, telling her over and over how beautiful and strong she was, watching her fall apart at a well-delivered _good girl_. It didn't go over nearly so well this morning.

"Stop that," Catra snapped, tail switching, the first time Trouble tried to call her good. "Don't lie to me. Don't treat me like a child, and don't lie to me."

They hadn't been lying in the slightest; Catra _was_ beautiful and strong and very good at whatever she set her mind to, even if Trouble wouldn't normally have gone on about it the way "Adora" did. But they weren't inclined to test Catra's patience at a time like this.

After that, Catra got steadily more violent and aggressive—the opposite of how it had always worked in Trouble's previous experience. Usually people were roughest at the peak of heat, when they were too caught up in their own need to remember their partner's comfort. But that was when Catra had been the most pliant and relaxed, even submissive. Maybe it was a cat thing, but Double Trouble kind of thought it was a Catra thing.

Whatever the reason, they had to have another talk about claws, and then _teeth_. Hickeys were one thing, but Catra was getting much more toothy, much too close to the jugular, than Trouble was comfortable with.

"I will pay you double," Catra growled, still brushing the sharp edges of her teeth against their neck as she spoke, "to let me bite h—you one time. Once."

"Money I don't get to spend because I bled to death in your bed is not appealing, kitten."

"Ugh. Coward."

Trouble didn't mind roughness as long as there was no significant damage being done, so as long as Catra kept to the rules, they decided to play "Adora" as quite enjoying it. The harder Catra clawed and bit, the more Adora arched into it, baring her throat and begging for more. That seemed to unsettle Catra, which was more fun than almost anything else they'd done.

***

When Double Trouble got back to Catra's room with their lunch, they found her fully dressed, complete with mask. The Force Captain was back.

"Ah," Trouble said, shifting back to their standard form. "All better, are we?"

"Close enough," Catra said briskly. "I appreciate your help, but I've got it from here."

The change to her scent, Trouble noted, had not quite faded. She was in for another few hours of discomfort. But they didn't doubt that she could handle it.

"Well, then. Pleasure doing business with you, kitten. I'll see you around." Trouble double-checked for the coin purse in their pocket; still there. "Don't forget to hydrate," they added, setting down the tray. They turned to go.

"Wait." The word seemed to escape Catra's mouth without her permission. When Trouble turned back, she had her arms crossed, her gaze anywhere but at them.

"Yes?" they prompted.

"Shift back," she said. "Just for a second. Just—to say goodbye."

_And I just won_ that _bet with myself_. "Sure," Trouble said, and was Adora again a moment later, expression soft and sad, head cocked expectantly.

Catra approached slowly, her gaze hungry and hurting. She took "Adora's" face in her hands and just held it for a moment, stroking one cheek with her thumb, then pulled her in for a kiss, soft and aching.

What exactly was Adora, Trouble wondered, that she could pass this up? That she could have someone love her like this, and leave them? But they thought they knew the answer—somehow, inexplicably, Adora didn't _know_.

But Trouble-as-Adora kissed Catra like someone who knew, someone who loved her back, someone who desperately didn't want to leave. That was the experience Catra had paid for, and Double Trouble hated leaving an audience unsatisfied.

Catra pulled back from the kiss abruptly, as if she couldn't bear to let it continue another second, as if something awful would happen if she did. But she didn't step back, not yet; she wrapped her arms around Trouble's neck and buried her nose in the crook of their neck, breathing in the almost-Adora scent.

Trouble could feel the brush of her lips as they moved, just enough to make out what she was saying. _I love you._

They didn't say it back. There was always the chance Catra would literally kill them if she felt mocked. And anyway they'd done all this to clear Catra's head, not hasten her probably-inevitable breakdown.

"Goodbye, Catra," they said instead, soft and tearful.

Catra finally let go, and stepped away, turning her back to Trouble and smoothing down her hair. "Do your next check-in by tablet. Coming in person is too risky."

"Will do, kitten," Double Trouble said in their own voice, pretending not to hear the break in Catra's, and closed the door behind them.


End file.
